


Frost Bitten

by Ridashippu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Implied Blood Drinking, Implied Murder, Implied Sexual Content, My first fic, Vampire AU, blood mention, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 18:03:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ridashippu/pseuds/Ridashippu
Summary: Being an adventurer is a deadly profession. From insane villagers who want to kill you, to a deadly snowstorm that seemingly arrived from nowhere, it's not an easy job. Taking refuge in an abandoned castle seemed to be a good idea, but when an enchanting stranger makes an appearance, you become uneasy. However, your insatiable curiosity urges you to explore more, even as night starts to fall.





	Frost Bitten

You shuddered, hugging the heavy cloak close to your freezing body. Your lantern long blown out, you were wandering practically blind in this horrible snowstorm. You had to tug your scarf up over your mouth and nose to keep them from freezing. You growled quietly to yourself, remembering how it was almost midday, and yet you could not see the sun any longer. While it had not been the best of ideas to be out in a snowstorm, you were not exactly willing to hole up in the town nearby. Not like they would have welcomed you anyway, considering their violent reaction to you showing up there at all. You would say it was your fault for showing up unannounced, but you didn’t think that them pulling out the pitchforks and torches was exactly necessary. They had chased you into the woods about an hour ago. Then, when you got deeper into the woods, the snowstorm had begun. ‘Curse adventuring, and curse this weather!’ you thought. It always led you into such dangerous situations.

The harsh wind sliced at your cloak, the freezing temperature only getting colder. If you remained out here, you were sure to be dead. Not one to give up hope, you pushed on through the cold. You would hold out hope for some sort of rescue from the snow, but something in your gut urged you to take your chances with the townsfolk again. Grunting to yourself, you knew how that would end. With you probably burning on a stake for trespassing or something. A harsh gust of wind hit you head on, forcing you to topple over into a snowbank against a large tree.

‘Damn this cold winter,’ you thought, snow piling on top of you quickly.

“And damn the townsfolk for forcing me to be out here!” you screamed aloud. You knew no one was out there. Nothing but the trees and the snow were witness to your outburst. You had begun shivering under the cold snow, so you tightened your scarf around your mouth and nose and begun to dig up in an attempt to free yourself from the dreadful snow.  
You had tried to dig your way out with your hands, but the relentless snowstorm just piled more and more on top of you. The tips of your fingers were numb now, and the cloak only kept out so much of the cold. Fear hit you hard, the realization dawning upon you. This was not like the stories you had read as a kid. This was an actual life or death situation. You were young and with that came naivety.  
Thinking quickly, you opted to dig downward into the snow. Thinking back to your grandfather and the time he used snow to make a little den like structure near the house. He was a kind man, always making sure you were prepared for a life of adventure. He would tell you his stories of living further up north, and how snowstorms would always come unexpectedly. He wanted you to be ready for anything. From the hottest of days to the coldest of nights. Even before you wanted to adventure, he just seemed to know that’s what you were going to do. Adventuring was ‘in your blood’ as he said.  
While it impressed the other kids in the village during winter, you never really figured that you would have need of ‘den making’ as a child. Now, however, you were incredibly thankful that he taught you.

Making sure to get enough space in front of you for air, you dug with your feet. Only to find that the ground beneath you suddenly caved, and gave way beneath you. The last thing you could recall was falling down and down, before your vision cut to black.

You didn’t know how far you had fallen, nor how long you had blacked out, but you could not see anything at all. The cave was incredibly eerie overall, and it took awhile for your eyes to begin adjusting to the darkness. You heard the snowstorm above you, and a small chill of wind blasted down at you from above. How you were not dead was a complete mystery to you. Finding your lantern, you struck a match and re-lit it. Surprisingly, it did not blow out, and you held it up around you to get a good look at your surroundings.

A cave. You had fallen right into a cave. Looking up, you could barely make out the entrance that you had ungracefully fallen from. Holding the lantern higher, you realized the snowstorm was harsher than ever. You had begun to think that it was nighttime, that, or the snowstorm was so rough that it blocked out the sun. That last thought was particularly dreadful. Your head had suddenly begun to reel, and you collapsed back into a pile of snow. You had presumed this pile of snow saved your life, considering the fall. Funny how the snow that had broken your fall, was also the thing trying to kill you. You had just gotten incredibly lucky, somehow falling into a cave rather then freezing above ground. Just as you were about to feel relief, you heard the distant howl of wolves. The hair on the back of your neck stood, and you rose to your feet. That howling was far closer than you were comfortable with.

You grabbed your lantern and begun walking down the cave, hugging your cloak close out of comfort. You checked behind you every now and again, making sure you had not been followed by whatever made those howling noises. You thought that it could be wolves, but wolves out in this weather would be ridiculous. No. Wolves did not dare to venture out in weather like this. Whatever made those howling sounds could not be a wolf, or any wolf that you knew of.

Your feet were starting to get sore, walking on uneven rock like this. You were sure it had been an hour at the very least. So needless to say, when the scenery changed from muddled cave to worn down stone bricks, you took notice to it. Things were finally getting interesting, you thought, pushing onward into the musty old dungeon. Walking forward for a few minutes, you reached a large room. You looked around, holding the lantern up high to get more light. Three large carved pillars stuck out of the ground, all of them looking rather decrepit. You wanted to touch one, but you feared that even the slightest change near it would cause the poor thing to crumble into dust.

Turning around, you chose to further examine the room, your mind curious and captured by the old beauty of this place. Aged wooden chairs that had collapsed from mold sat on one side of the room, while barrels sat on the other side. You guessed that it had to be wine, by the look of the barrels and how they had been placed. Curious, you walked over to one of the barrels and tested the tap on it. A small red liquid dribbled out of the faucet, and you foolishly tested the substance with a finger. It tasted absolutely horrible. Like someone mixed iron with wine. Whoever owned these barrels surely didn’t know good wine from bad wine, then again, how would you know yourself? You turned off the tap, realizing you had left a small red puddle on the floor. You hissed through your teeth, recoiling. If someone lived here, they would probably not be all too happy about a stranger testing their wine. Or a stranger invading their home at all for that matter.

The sound of a low growl echoed throughout the large room, causing you to shudder. Something was in the room with you now. The air grew cold, and a deep dreadful pit had formed in your stomach. Something was horribly wrong. Hot breath tickled the back of your neck, and your eyes went wide. You turned to see what it could have been, only to be greeted by a pair of purple eyes set upon yellow sclera. Whatever this thing was, its eyes seemed hauntingly beautiful. That was until the thing let out a low rumbly hiss, which resulted in you snapping out of the trance. You screamed as loud as you could out of fear. Just before the thing could grab you, you began to run. You caught sight of some stairs, and while the thing didn’t follow you, you ran up them as fast as you humanly could.

Scrambling from the dark musty basement, you were greeted with the smell of rot. The place around you, now lit by the light of your lantern, showed many skeletons. Some armed with crossbows, some without arms, and some that were just sitting there. Stumbling, you turned around once more. Spotting a doorway, you threw it open and ran down a long windowed hall. It didn’t even cross your mind how none of the windows were broken or cracked, despite the age of this place. Before turning a corner, you gave a good long look behind you. And upon finding no one there, you breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Perhaps you had just imagined the beast from the basement. You hit your head earlier after all, what with landing in a pile of snow only an hour or so before. Perhaps, you thought, the creature was just a beast from the pits of your imaginative mind. A devilish hallucination.

Shuddering, you began to think about the possibility of it being real. Muttering to yourself, you vowed that you were just going to deny what you saw. You wanted to pretend like nothing ever happened. Yes. That was your best bet. Telling anyone else about what you saw might just get you a trip to the local plague doctor.

You turned, pulling on a nervous smile. You were not going to say a word of what you saw to anyone. You nodded to yourself as you started to walk down the hall. You were going to take this story with you to the grave. Even if you made it out of this place alive, it was not worth a visit to the doctor.  
“Nothing happened.” You said to yourself in a confident tone. Your nervous smile had begun to fade.  
“I. I had j-just burst out of the musty old basement for some fresh air. Yeah.” That’s what your story was going to say. The one you planned on writing once you got out of this…

Wait. What is this place?

You looked around you, seeing a long carpeted hallway. Many doors were scattered down the hall, and it all looked rather fresh. Not dusty, not moldy, not even a little bit smelly. You walked down the dark hallway, testing a door here or there only to find them either locked or missing a doorknob. It was slightly upsetting that you, as an explorer, were not able to explore this place to the fullest extent. You started to feel a presence behind you, only to turn around and see nothing. You were alone. Completely alone, with no one to help you if something were to happen.  
“This place has something strange going on with it. I’m not crazy.” You stated, trying to distract yourself from the eerie reality of the situation you have gotten yourself into. Hesitantly, you tried the next door you saw. To your surprise, it opened right up!

The door creaked open slowly, yet loudly. You didn’t like that it made so much noise, and you quickly stepped inside, nervous that someone or something could have easily heard you. Strangely, the room was only slightly dusty. You coughed a little, the freezing cold still biting at your lungs. You removed your scarf from your face. The room had a large bed with an old silken canopy around it. The bed frame seemed to be well made, with intricate designs carved into the old wood. The windows seemed to be foggy, no doubt covered in precipitation and ice from the freezing cold outside. You were honestly shocked that this old place kept out the cold so well. You stepped inside the room, closing the door behind you. You pulled down your hood, examining the rest of the room. Your eyes lit up when you spotted a fireplace, and you rushed over with your lantern. Three couches were set up around the fireplace, and you dashed between two of them to approach the unlit, still full, fireplace.

You, with your gloves still on, lifted the candle out of the lantern and over to the logs in the fireplace. When it was well lit, and your hand started feeling a little too warm, you pulled back and blew out the candle. You stepped back and sat down, putting the candle in your satchel as you watched the fire slowly consume the logs. Warmth flooded your body, and the chill of the storm almost vanished from your mind.

That was, until you had heard the eerie howl of wind whistling from under the door. The sound alone sent chills up your spine as it echoed through the hall. You got up and walked over to the door, everything in your sight visible thanks to the fire. You locked the door and kicked a rug under the spacing, hoping that would stop the sound of wind from scaring you. Though, it was too late, as the feeling of fear washed over you relentlessly. You were entirely alone. You could easily die and never be found. Demons and creatures could easily make a quick snack out of you, and being without a strong weapon, would be entirely helpless to stop them. You made your way back over to the fire, grabbing some pillows and the large blanket from the bed. You wanted to be close to the light. Shadows danced on the walls, and you thought you saw one smile at you.

You shook your head, knowing how your mind was merely tricking you into thinking something was there. You set the blanket and pillows down a good distance from the fire. You didn’t want to catch anything else alight. A snowstorm was bad enough, but burning to death was worse. Freezing was bitter and sharp, but fire. Fire was for more dangerous. You’ve seen funeral pyres gone wrong, and needless to say, it was not pretty.

You gagged, and decided to distract yourself from that train of thought by looking around the room. Upon spotting the wallpaper, you gave a quiet chuckle. It was a very old wallpaper, peeling at the edges. You spotted some aged paintings on the wall, marveling at the skill of whoever painted them. There were many that were just plain old scenery, which was always nice and all. But you always found yourself interested in the paintings of people. They had so much intricate facial features. Some had scars, while others had strange wigs. When you were younger, you imagined up stories for them. Sometimes, even as an adult adventurer, you still did.

Your eyes scanned the room, and you took notice of the shelves lined with many books and small statuettes. Some of them were of strange animals you never saw before. One of them was round, with a large tentacle swinging from its face. You heard of them, but never seem anything looking like them. You figured that the statuette was of what was called an ‘elephant’. You were told that they were massive creatures, and not only that, they ate plants and not meat. The largest thing you ever recalled seeing in your life was a horse. So imagining something like an elephant was a little bit hard for you to say the least.

You curled up in the blankets, feeling the room get colder. You moved closer to the fire, shuddering.

“You know, being that close to the fire is a poor idea,” a deep voice spoke. You screamed, whipping your hands up to defend yourself from the intruder, only to turn around and slip on the blanket you brought from the bed onto the floor. The source of the voice easily caught you by grabbing onto your wrist.  
“It’s also a poor choice to go intruding into people’s homes…,” the voice growled. You cussed yourself out in your mind. Of course the castle was inhabited. You were such a damned fool to think otherwise. You thanked the spirits that it was merely one person who found you.  
‘One who could easily kill you and get away with it,’ your mind whispered, sending shivers up your spine and throughout your body. With curious wide eyes, you further examined the stranger. The figure wore a dark cloak, his eyes covered by the hood. He seemed to be wearing gloves, long ones that went up the length of his arm. He propped you back up on your feet and gave you a friendly smile, though he did not show his teeth. He let go of your hand and stepped back, gesturing to one of the large windows.

“Though, what with the storm outside, I don’t blame you,” he stated, extending a hand in greeting now. You, of course, were hesitant to shake it. This man just appeared into the room without a sound, saved you from falling, and greeted you with a friendly tone despite you breaking into his castle. You assumed it was a castle anyway. It was too large to be a mansion after all. Most castle owners, from your experience at least, would immediately execute intruders. While you did intrude on their castles to play good old Robin Hood from time to time, you had never been caught. Not until now.

You finally reached out and shook his hand, stating your name. The figure smiled, nodding. “Ah… Yes…,“ he began, sitting down on the blanket and pulling the edge away from the fire.  
“The townsfolk chased you out into the storm, didn’t they?” he asked. You, being cautious of him, sat down a good distance from where he sat. You nodded at his question, hugging your cloak tightly to your body.

“Do they normally chase outsiders away like that?” you asked, slightly interested in how he guessed so well. The stranger leaned back, a sly smirk decorating his features.

“Normally they kill visitors. I’m impressed you somehow managed to avoid them. Though…”. He chuckled, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth.  
“Am I to assume you just ran right into the snowstorm.” he asked, his tone filled a smugness you were sure you’ve never heard before. His voice was smooth, albeit a little rumbly every now and again. It was like someone purring when they spoke. That’s the best way you could describe it, anyway.  
You grumbled your response, looking away from him.

You found yourself wondering how he got in so quietly. The door made a lot of noise when you came in, so why had it not done so for him? You tried to get a look at the door, but the couch blocked your sight of the door, as did the stranger who was in your way. Whoever this stranger was, they were silent. And silent meant dangerous.

The two of you sat there for a while, watching the fire burn. Eventually, you worked up the courage to start asking him questions like how long he lived here, was this his home, and why the villagers attacked you with no hesitation. He explained that, yes, he did in fact live in this place. He continued, stating that you were actually in a small castle, and the area was often frequented by violent snowstorms. He began telling you how long he lived there, and instead of sitting on the floor for much longer, he chose to go and sit on one of the dusty old couches.  
“I’ve lived here for around…. I’d like to say ninety moons or so?” he explained, his tone reflecting his uncertainty.  
“When you live alone, you begin to lose track of time.”  
So he lived alone. All alone in this castle. You looked back at the fire, feeling a little bit bad for him. Living alone was rough enough when you had a small cottage to take care of, let alone an entire castle. No wonder the room was so dusty. You looked out the window, noticing how the clouds had become just a little bit lighter. You hoped it was the morning sun, come to save you from the horrible frost outside.

“Do you have any servants? Any siblings? Anyone here other than you?” you asked. The stranger chuckled and shook his head. You were a bit surprised. Normally, those who owned a castle had to hire servants to keep it clean. Things began to make a little bit more sense now.

“No. I would like to do my work on my own, thank you,” he replied, smiling. “I prefer to keep myself busy with menial tasks instead of sitting back and rotting away on a petty throne..” He sighed, crossing his arms. “I do not envy royals, with their thousands of servants and attendees who simply do their work for them. No. I’d much rather help clean a floor, or repair a window, then simply die a lazy fool.” The stranger leaned back on the couch, the cloak still covering up most of his eyes.

You then let more silence fill the space between you two, choosing to ask him about the villagers another day. The fire crackled, and the smell of the burning wood made your senses flare to life. The bitter chill was gone now, and you finally began to warm up.

The stranger, breaking the silence, spoke up.  
“I can permit you to stay until the snowstorm leaves, dear stranger. All I have is one request,” he drawled, waving a hand in the air for what you assume was dramatic effect. You found that a little funny. Then again, you found people in general to be funny, what with their little movements and quirks. You were about to speak up and say something witty when he suddenly interrupted you.

“Do not leave this room after the sun sets. That is all I ask of you,” he stated, his tone now grave. For some reason, fear shot through you when he said it, and the cursed chill returned. His words seemed like less of a kind warning, and more of a vague threat. You hesitantly nodded, not taking your eyes off the stranger as he stood back up. You forced yourself to remember that he was not a friend.  
No... He was a stranger. Someone who could very easily kill you. You would never see it coming considering how silently he moved.

“I… I will be sure to do so…,” you replied, watching him turn around. You called out to him, one question burning in your mind.  
“Who are you? What’s your name?” you asked, your curiosity dying to know. The stranger halted in his tracks, and he half-turned to face you with a charming smile.  
“Well, giving you my name would take away the mystery now, wouldn't it,” he replied, his tone utilizing the same smugness from before. Only now, it seemed more fitting.  
“For the time being, you can refer to me as Tor…,” he purred. Something about this tone seemed to calm you, and you felt your lack of trust slowly vanish, as if by some strange force out of your control. But what came after made your blood run cold. “I really do mean it. Please remain in this room after sunset. Unless you wish for death to pay you an unkind visit.”

Your gaze snapped back to the fireplace as you found yourself too scared to continue staring at the stranger. You felt truly frightened now, and you could not work up the courage to respond to him. What he said was a little scary on its own, but it was true. They way he said it however... The way he said it with such a low tone. You sat there for another few hours, pondering the clear threat. Even with someone else in the castle, you felt more alone than ever before.

Another hour passed as you stared at the fireplace, your knees tucked against your chest. Your eyes had begun to grow weary, and you slowly begun to lay down on the blanket you set out. Grabbing one of the many pillows you dragged with you from the bed, you made a neat little nest around you. It was comfy, and the resemblance to a potential barricade made you feel just slightly safer then you had been before. You remembered that it was never wise to sleep near an open fire, and, being too tired to move again, merely made do with tugging any stray blanket or pillow away from the fireplace. Once that was done, you laid back down and closed your eyes, letting the cracking of the firewood lull you into a slumber.

You smiled, the plush bed beneath your bare body was wonderfully elaborate in design and make. Golden ropes strung across the canopy of the bed, some dangling just above your head. And the curtains were such a dark purple. The fire crackled, illuminating the room well. It looked lavish, royal, and all around fancy. It reminded you of the many castles you snuck into during your youth. You gripped the velvet violet sheets beneath you and rolled onto one side. Oh how your heart was aflutter with desire and need. You had to admit, you felt rather excited. No. Not excited. You were wonderfully aroused. Aroused at the thought of being laid with your lover, your dear prince. The door to the room opened with a loud creak, and you giggled as the footsteps approached you. You felt the bed dip behind you as your darling got on the bed and made his way over to you.  
“My my. Seems someone was waiting for me…,” he said, his tone seeping desire. It was wonderfully smooth, his accent like cream on a delicious cake.  
You closed your eyes, feeling his soft touch on your bare shoulders. His hands were smooth, and the clawed tips left gentle scratches along your arm. You didn’t mind it at all though. It felt good to you.  
“My darling. My dearest. You know you could have just come to the study, my dear…,” he stated, his breath tickling your neck.  
“I was so very alone. And I wanted your touch so badly.”  
Oh how that sent shivers up your spine. Knowing he desired you so hotly and feverishly. It made warmth pool up in your most secret place. You felt his hand slowly slide down your arm and onto your midsection.  
“But, I will be forgiving… I know how you desired me so, my dear…,” he purred, nipping at the tip of your ear with fanged teeth. You felt his hand creep further and further downward, and your anticipation had made you want him so badly.

A loud thud jolted you out of your dream, causing you to bolt upright. Your breath grew heavy as you looked around. After a good once over, making sure nothing was out of place, you looked over to the fireplace. The fire was still, surprisingly, brightly lit. You squinted at it, realizing something. Your earlier assumption of the fire remaining alive for so long was not exactly correct.  
Someone had put new logs on the fire. The blackened coals of the old logs could be seen burning below, feeding the new flame. That means someone came into your room while you slept. You shuddered, your eyes wide. You were so defenceless here, and it frightened you to no end. The fire crackled, the sound filling the dreadful silence. You stood, stretching. After feeling a good couple of pops, you bent over and grabbed the blanket and pillows. You brought the items back over to the bed, where you re-made it. You had a simple rule. If you slept in a place, you made sure to leave it in a nicer state then when you arrived.

After that was said and done, you went back over and grabbed your stuff. You held your lantern in front of you, checking it for any cracks. When it was all good, you took the candle from it. Shockingly, it was a brand new candle, and a little bit larger than what you had prior. Someone had replaced your candle. The feeling of worry slithered back into your soul. It was a kind gesture, but considering only one other person was in the castle it put you on edge. You held the candle close to the fire, letting the wick catch before placing it back into the lantern. You grumbled to yourself, knowing you shouldn’t leave a fire unattended before leaving.

Your footsteps echoed down the hall, your lantern being the only thing from plunging you into total darkness. Paintings hung on the walls, the pictures old and rotting away. Time really did a number on this place. You huffed, starting to remember the dream you had only twenty minutes ago. You remembered the feelings of arousal, though now they were a little less welcome. You’ve had partners in the past, but being that you liked to adventure and explore, the whole thing was short lived at best. You wanted to spend most of your life exploring, and settling down would just get in the way of it. Some of them called you selfish for not wanting to stay. It took you time, but you cared less and less about what they had to say. You had a dream, and damn them for not wanting you to live it out.

You had begun to think about the voice in your dream, and how it deliciously called out to you in such a seductive manner. Something in you felt a little bit more… You supposed at ease was the phrase you were looking for. Yes. You felt a bit more at ease in that dream, though you could not put your finger on what it was that made you feel that way. You continued on, not realizing how much time had been passing you by. You slowly got caught up in wondering about the history of this castle. How long had it been here? Who owned it? Who built it? Why was it being lived in by one single person in a creepy cloak?  
You had begun to think more and more about the stranger who paid you a visit, wondering why he lived here alone. Sure he said that he preferred to do things on his own. Granted, that would be normal if he had lived in a house. But this was a castle, not a simple home. You shuddered, unnerved as all hell at the fact someone wanted to just stay here. Alone. With no one to speak with. Perhaps he was crazy…

You lifted your lantern, spotting a marked door. Approaching it, you realized this was a door to a library!

Filled with glee and hope, you swung the door open only to be met with rows upon rows of empty bookshelves. You stood there for a moment, lantern held high and your smile slowly fading. To say it was a disappointment was an understatement. To see such a huge library so horribly empty was nothing less than a travesty! Grumbling, you closed the door and continued down the hall. You felt like a fool for getting your hopes up. Seriously, how could one have a library that large, and not own any books? It was a damn shame, to say the least. Come to think of it, the hallway started to seem a bit more empty now. Less doors, no more paintings. Hell, even the carpet was starting to be worn down here. That is when you realized the ground was slowly giving way to stone bricks, not wood. You turned around, trying to wrap your head around this.

After a moment of thinking, you realized that someone had purposefully built this castle to merge into the nearby mountain. So, logically, this had to be where the castle stopped and the mountain began. Why waste time removing the mountain and building over it when you could just build right into the mountain. You shrugged to yourself. With your lit lantern, you continued to march forward down the hall. It was an interesting castle, that was for sure. You were still upset about the lack of books though.

You were lost. That was an easy way to put it. Each corner your turned brought you more and more aggravation. Each turn looked the same, and you felt like you had been walking for over an hour at the very least. Growling to yourself, you searched through your satchel and dug out a stick of charcoal. Turning to the wall, you marked it with a large “X”. Now, if you were passing it again, you would know. You shoved the charcoal back into your bag and continued on. You turned another corner, only to be met with a large room. You stood there for a moment, confused. You expecting more hallway, more aggravation. But here you stood, feeling a bit foolish for getting so upset. Raising your lantern, you scanned the room with wide eyes. It was already hard to see, what with your candle on its last legs, but what you could see was an empty room. Well. Almost empty anyway.

Something was there, all the way in the back of the room. It was a solid shape, but you could not make out the finer details of it. You almost stepped into the room, but stopped yourself before you set foot inside. You lowered your lantern, looking at the doorway. You had to check for traps, after all. While they were rare, they were still a very big issue and danger for explorers like you. Scanning the ground, you could not spot any sign of tripwire, pressurized stone, or spikes. You smirked, relieved. No traps at the doorway at the least, which is where the traps would be most of the time. Looking up, there seemed to be nothing but an empty ceiling covered in moss and stone. No traps from above, no traps from below. It seemed safe enough.

You pressed forward into the large room, your curiosity stinging at this point. Within a few good strides, you stood next to the object, though now you were wishing that you didn’t investigate.  
It was a coffin. A lone coffin, polished and decorated in extravagant designs. And unlike everything else in the castle, it looked very clean. You looked around at the room again, checking to see if anything or anyone was hiding. It was bad luck to open a casket, but you wanted to know if there was anyone inside. Perhaps it was just a farce to deter explorers and treasure seekers. Your mind raced, each thought becoming faster and faster. Who would even clean a coffin so far away from the rest of the castle. Who would even bring a coffin into the castle and not a graveyard. Why put it in a musty old room and not a clean one? Why? Why? WHY?!

You grit your teeth, grabbing the lid with one hand. You had made up your mind. You were going to open the damn thing up. If it was treasure, then score for you. But if it was a corpse. Then you would walk away ashamed for disrespecting the dead. Grunting, you pulled up the lid with one hand. It was a little bit hard, but eventually you got the thing open.

Hesitant, you peered inside with the lantern. A pit or fear grew in your stomach. No. You did not find treasure.

Inside was what seemed to be a body. Not just a normal body either. No rot, no decay, no nothing. Just a tall handsome man donned in a suit. You looked at his face, surprised at how young he looked. Despite having white hair, he looked about as young as you were. You leaned in closer just slightly, getting a better look at him and his outfit. He wore what looked to be an old royal garb. You could not put your finger on where you’ve seen it before, though you knew it had to be from up north. It donned deep purple colors, which was astounding considering how rare purple dye was. Only those who were royal were allowed to even have such colors, let alone wear them. Whoever this was, they clearly were of great importance and royal standing. At the corpses’ side laid a broken crown of gold, the gems taken out of it. To see such a wonderfully intricate thing broken brought you a sense of sorrow. The gold would be worth something, but were you really going to steal from a corpse? You were an adventurer, not a grave robber. You looked back at the face, ready to close the casket and leave the poor, though undoubtedly rich, corpse rest in peace. That was, until you looked at his ears. They were pointed. And while yes, people did have different ears, as no two people were the same.

This mans’ ears were very pointed. So pointy that they came to a tip rather than rounded out. You mentally cursed at yourself for using the term pointed so many times. Leaning over the casket with the lantern, you got a closer look. While taking a closer look, you managed to spot what the corpse was resting on. It seemed to be a large cloak with a wonderfully blue hue to it, though it looked black at first. You could have sworn you saw that cloak before, though. You looked at the suit again, chuckling internally. It’s like something right out of a folktale. Your Gram Gram used to tell you to be wary of beautiful strangers, for they could be devilish creatures of the night. When asked about it, she only chuckled and murmured a single word.

“Vampires…”

You began to put the pieces together, your eyes slowly widening in horrid realization. A stranger who lives in a castle alone. One who is rather charming. Who also is entirely silent when entering and exiting. One who asks, no, warns you to remain in your room during the night…

You propped the casket lid on your shoulder, slowly reaching down at the collar of the suit. Fighting hesitation, you pulled it down just ever so slightly, revealing a very smooth, non-punctured neck. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, glancing back to the ears. Perhaps you were just too superstitious. Perhaps this was just a poor recently deceased noble who just so happened to have strange ears. You reached back to try and get the lid off of your shoulder, only to somehow lose your grip on your lantern. It clattered to the floor, breaking. You were now entirely blind, being surrounded by darkness.

You were about to curse your misfortune, when you felt a chill run right up your spine. Something inside told you to run, to flee, to hide. You shook it off, reaching for the lantern. Grunting, you closed the lid to the coffin before kneeling down to search the ground. You pressed your hands around the ground at your feet, knowing that the lantern had to be somewhere around there. You hissed, feeling glass cutting your finger in your search for the lantern. You cursed yourself once again, feeling like an idiot for not realizing the glass cage around the lantern had to have shattered upon impact. The warmth dribbling from the cut was enough to let you know that your finger, was of course, bleeding. You would have to tend to it later, when you were back in your room.

You found the lantern, and using a makeshift match of sorts, relit it. The poor old thing was all sorts of busted, which upset you deeply considering how it had served you well. You looked around the room, barely able to make out where the exit was before the lantern vanished from your hand. No. Not vanished. It had been snatched. You turned to your left, greeted by the same pair of haunting eyes from the basement.

“Snooping around is a dangerous thing, my dear…,” it purred. You recognized that smug sultry tone. He chuckled, looming closer.  
“I told you to avoid danger, and here you come seeking it out,” he teased. You felt a hand caress your face. It was strangely warm against your cold skin. You turned away, sprinting to where you remember the exit being. You could hear footsteps following you, as well as some muffled words. You had tried to put distance between you and that thing.That horrifyingly handsome- No! Stop that! It had to be a spell. Some sort of magic! Or perhaps you had just gone entirely insane.

“Please, Wait!” Tor shouted, now in front of you in the hall. You could barely see his yellow eyes before you rammed right into his gut with your elbow. It was rude. It was crude. But he was no longer in front of you, blocking your path to escape. You continued to run in the dark, using pure memory to remember the turns you had made. Eventually, the stone beneath your feet turned to wood again. Considering yourself lucky, you pressed on. You were back in the castle now, but you were not safe. No. Not yet. You pressed yourself against a wall, feeling along it for a door. No doubt you were smearing blood on the old walls. You hoped it would just blend with the faded scarlet wallpaper. Your bloodied hand hit the hard metal of a doorknob, and you flung the thing open and slammed it shut behind you. You placed your hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing, your poor mind trying to process the series of events that had just occurred.

You slid down the door, trying to calm your racing heart. You felt just a little bad for elbowing him in the gut, but given the circumstances, you felt as though you had to. This was not your home, no. It belonged to Tor. You sighed quietly, removing your hand from your mouth. This could all have just been one big misunderstanding. Perhaps he was just strange, and preferred to sleep in a coffin. Perhaps the hood was to cover his ears and hair. Though no doubt people would find him just a little bit attractive without the hood, despite the white hair and pointed ears. Hell. If that really was Tor, like you presumed it to be, then why cover it in the first place. Perhaps he felt self conscious about it.

You let the silence consume you for a good half hour or so. You slowly pushed yourself to your feet, groaning quietly as you did so. Your adrenaline gone, your body ached. You ran one hand over the other, hissing in pain. Your poor hand was still bleeding, signifying a deeper cut then you expected. Hopefully it would not get infected. You rather liked having two hands. You stepped forward, the floor creaking beneath your feet.

Suddenly, the candles came to life. The sudden light causing you to flinch as your eyes adjusted to the change. You felt smooth hands gently clutch at your own bloody one. You jolted, and with wide eyes you looked down. Tor was kneeling before you, hood up and head down.You felt the urge to pull away and run again, but now, you were not so sure. You steeled yourself, one hand in his own, the other on the doorknob. Though given how fast he seemed to be, you presumed you would not be able to make it far. The silence was painful, at best. Neither you nor him speaking at all. It took a moment, but you realized he was slightly shaking. Your heart hurt as you pondered the situation. He frightened you, yes. But you not only invaded his home, but assaulted him. You snooped around where you should not have, and if you were him, you probably would be either hurt or infuriated.

Tor spoke up, his quiet voice breaking the silence.

“Please…,” he whispered. “Just let me explain…”

Alright. Now your heart definitely hurt. He sounded so distraught compared to the smug tone he spoke with when you first met him.

“I didn't mean to frighten you, dear. It was not my intention I swear,” Tor continued, grasping your hand just a little bit tighter. His shaking worsened, and while you did feel bad for him, you also felt a little bit scared.

“It’s just… The accursed aroma. That dreadfully sweet scent.” His voice was barely a whisper now, his tone changing from distraught to something else. “It called to me.”  
You didn’t want to ask what it was. You knew that you should not ask him what he meant. But your damned curiosity bit at you, demanding to know. You had a slight guess as to what he spoke of, considering how he held your bloodied hand instead of your clean one.

You spoke, your tone reflecting your fear. “M-Might I ask what you speak of, T-Tor…,” you asked, your eyes quickly glancing at the door then back to him. He paused for a moment, his thumb sliding over the palm of your bloodied hand.  
“The liquid of life, dear adventurer,” he replied, pulling his hand away. If he continued like this, the temptation would only worsen.

You looked down at your hand, eyebrows scrunching up as the gears in your mind continued to turn. You had gotten your answer. You took a deep breath in, closing your eyes for a moment. You were taking risks here, you were taking them in leaps and bounds. Might as well continue to jump, considering how far you have already come. Gathering your bravery, you opened your eyes and stared down at him.

“You’re a vampire, aren't you.”

Tor flinched, as though the question stung him. Though he did not hesitate when he gave his answer.  
“Yes.”

You should be feeling fear right about now. You should be running for your life. But here in this room with an actual vampire kneeling at your feet, you felt no such thing. Perhaps you were blinded by a spell. Perhaps you were being a fool. It no longer mattered. You stepped forward, clean hand sliding off the doorknob and reaching for the hood of his cloak. You grasped the hem of the hood, hesitant. He did not put a hand up to stop you, nor did he push you away. Slowly, you pulled the hood off of his head.

He looked rather nice in the fleeting light of a lantern, yes. But in a fully lit room, where every miniscule detail was visible?

He was stunning.

You took your hand off his hood, letting it fall to your side. Tor looked up at you, his gaze soft.

“I do mean it when I say that I am sorry,” he whispered as a strand of his white hair fell in front of his face. “If you want to go, I can help show you the way out of the castle. One that does not require walking through the sno-” You interrupted him, still full of bravery.

“I do not wish to leave…,” you stated, your tone reflecting your strong will. Though, a part of you would guess that it was not strength that held your will, but foolishness. But you were alright with that.  
“I want to know more,” your voice became a whisper, your gaze sincere as could be. It was not lie. You were a curious being after all. You were face to face with a vampire, and as far as you knew, he had no intention of harming you. The least you could do was let him explain. Tor looked shocked. He did not think that you would want to stay. Not after running from him with such fear in your eyes. The look you gave him when he caught you in his chambers. He didn’t like what emotions he brought forth from you. Tor stood to his full height, nodding at you. He had to admit, you were far braver than many others.

“Then I shall tell you all that I can.”

Tor sat across from you, fire blazing in the fireplace. You tried to get as comfortable as you could, which was not much considering how stiff the couch was. Setting your pack to the side, you turned your attention to him. His hood remained lowered, and his gaze was directed down at the floor. He found a slight bit of comfort in these old designs, his eyes tracing the swirls and loops in the pattern.  
“Tor,” you spoke up, trying to get his attention. He jolted, looking back up at you.

“Actually, It’s Lotor. Prince Lotor,” He corrected, looking at you with what seemed to be a guilty stare. You didn’t think that your prior assumption of him being akin to royalty would be correct, but here you were. It made a little bit of sense. His clothing being the biggest giveaway.

“You’re a prince? Then where are your subjects?” you asked. You flinched slightly, realizing the question could easily offend. He looked down again, slouching in his seat.

“With my father,” he replied, his tone solemn. While you were not too good with many people, you could read emotions rather easily. You crossed your arms and leaned back, comparing his reaction to that of one who had just touched an open flame.

“Who is your father?” you asked, pushing forward with immense caution. He didn’t seem aggressive, but one wrong move could potentially cause him to snap. People had their limits, vampire or not.  
Lotor narrowed his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking up at you.  
“Emperor Zarkon,” he replied, his tone colder then the snowstorm outside. You flinched, shuddering slightly. You had heard of the mad king before. How he wiped out most of the northern continent and made it his own. Your grandfather rarely spoke of him, unless he was drunk. Which, surprisingly, was about as rare as a red moon. According to him, the tyrant raided his home town. Several men and women were lined up and executed as an example of his power. Grandpa would shudder when he spoke of the tyrant.

“When I saw him ride in, clad in armor blacker than the night sky, I was so frightened. His eyes, child. His eyes held no soul. He looked down at me when he killed those poor people. He looked down at me and scoffed. I felt lucky that he didn’t kill me on the spot,” your grandfather stated, rocking back and forth in his chair.  
You cringed, your gaze falling upon the fireplace. Every war he fought, every battle he won, all of them spent the lives of innocent people. His armies would storm villages, kidnap, kill, and then burn it all until nothing was left. By all respective accounts, he was a monster.

Lotor sighed, shifting in his seat. “You’ve heard of him, haven’t you,” he said. He sounded sad. Your gaze snapped back to him, your eyes wide.  
“Well… Only a fool would not know of him,” you commented, running a hand through your hair. Lotor stood, unclasping the cape and letting it fall to the floor. He slowly walked over to the fireplace, folding his arms behind his back.  
“According to the few true history books that remain, I am a bastard child. One who is undeserving of the throne due to my ‘tainted blood’. But that’s not true…,” Lotor began. You had heard some tall tales about Zarkon having a son, but never really put any thought into them until now.

“Zarkon had a queen, once upon a time. An empress. It was official, but never celebrated. No party, no festivities, not even an official crowning. It made sense, considering that she was not from this world.” Lotor gazed into the bright fire, watching one of the logs crumble and the ashes swirl around before vanishing.

“Father liked to call upon dark magic and fiendish beings for luck and power. Most of it was nothing but superstition and heresy of the highest order. My mother was a witch from a powerful cult. A woman with heinous abilities. My father courted her, thinking it would make his ties with the dark forces stronger. Little did he know, his ‘romance’ with her would result in a pregnancy. One that he…,” Lotor paused, inhaling sharply before continuing. “One that he did not want.” He balled his hands into fists, shaking slightly as his gaze locked onto the fire.

“She died after I was born, and my father made the realization that if I inherited the throne, he would no longer be king. He made many poor attempts on my life when I was but an infant. Only to realize that I…,” he closed his eyes, bringing a hand up to cover his face.  
“I was nigh unkillable. Begrudgingly, he kept me until I was around twenty years old. That’s when the thirst began.” His hand fell to his side, the other one clutching the mantel of the fireplace. Lotor looked over to you, his yellow and purple eyes staring at you with an intensity. You shuddered, scooting away just slightly. He tore his gaze away from you, looking back down at the fire with shame.  
“Eventually, he could no longer cover up the bodies. One night he barged into my room and threw me from the balcony on the seventh floor.” He paused, looking over at you for just a moment. “Did you know that, despite what the legends claim, I can still feel pain? Broke almost every damn bone in my body. Took me hours to heal before I regained the ability to flee.”  
You brought a hand up to your mouth, rather shocked.

Yes, the Emperor was a horrible tyrant who slaughtered without a second thought. But to treat his own son so violently really put the nail in the coffin, so to speak. You could hardly imagine throwing anyone from a balcony, let alone your own metaphorical child.

A part of you felt bad for the poor Prince, while another part of you made you want to go to the castle and slaughter that damn monster of an ‘Emperor’ yourself. The goal of a parent is to teach their child the ways of the world through love, care, and proper guidance.

Lotor must have caught on to your thoughts, considering his constant glances over to you. In the light of the fire, you thought you could see him smirking.

Prince Lotor disliked intruding into the mind of another, as he found it intrusive and disrespectful, but your thoughts of personally decapitating his father definitely drew his attention. It was impressive, to say the least. Lotor could see himself growing rather fond of you. His eyes darted back over to where you sat. His gaze trailing from your feet all the way up to your eyes.

“That was one hundred or so years ago.” He stated, slowly turning on his heel and walking over to you. Before you could blink, he was towering over you. He was intimidating, yes. But he was also incredibly handsome as well. You could not tear your gaze away from those eyes. You’d hate to say you were smitten quickly, but here you were. He leaned down, his face mere inches away from yours. The crackle of the fireplace was the only noise that filled the silence between you two. He stared down at you, the blood rushing to your cheeks was so deliciously tempting. No. No he must temper himself. He is not a wolf seeking to hunt down his next meal. He was a prince, and he would be damned if he were to tear right into you.

“I trust you will tell no one what you have seen here,” he whispered, slowly drawing himself back. He turned away from you, walking over to the other sofa and plopping himself down onto it.

“I wouldn’t dare…,” you replied, bringing a hand up to feel your cheek. It was hot. Gods, you had been blushing. You hoped that he did not notice. You felt something crust on your hand, and you tore your gaze from the handsome prince down to it. Dried blood. Right. You had cut your hand on the lantern shards. You sighed, looking back over to the prince.

“What are you going to do now, Prince Lotor?” you asked, tilting your head to the side slightly.

“I’m going to lock myself away until you leave, of course.” His eyes, much like his tone, reflected sorrow. He didn’t want to see you hurt, but he felt a nice little bond with you. However, you were an innocent human, and he was a vampire. Lotor glanced at you, his eyes taking in your form. You were beautiful. Yes, he had fallen for countless people, and each one had their own beauty to them. But you…

Something in you called had out to him. And this time, he was sure that it was not your blood. He thought back to when he first saw you. He could have easily killed you when you first fell into the caves near his castle. He could have killed you when you sampled some of his blood wine. He could have killed you.

But Lotor didn’t want to. He wanted you to live.

You looked down at your fist, pondering. You had been adventuring all your life, yet here you felt a calling. Something brought you here. Perhaps it was merely chance playing her cruel games. Perhaps it was fate. But you wanted to remain here for the time being. It was as though a fire had suddenly sparked in your soul. This fire, this sudden spark, it called to you. It practically begged for you to remain here. You looked back up to him, standing and balling your hand into a fist. Your expression stern, your fear cast aside, you spoke.  
“But what if I want to stay here?”

Lotor paused, turning to face you with surprise. This was a bravery he did not expect from you, though you already were proving yourself to be far more than what you seemed. You gave him a stern look, showing him your fist.

“I don’t know how much blood you need, but… I think I can provide it…,” you looked at your fist, unballing it. Now Lotor was truly impressed. You hardly even knew him and here you were, offering your very own life essence. He blinked, unsure of how to respond. You stepped closer, presenting your hand to him.  
Lotor glanced down at your hand, though the wound was starting to heal, it was not fully healed yet. He could still smell the blood along your skin, the two scents mingling.

“Darling. Your offer is very kind,” Lotor replied, gently grabbing your hand.

“But my thirst can be insatiable… Do you really want to do this?” he asked, his movements hesitant. You nodded, reaching over into your pack and withdrawing a knife. He flinched at the sight of the blade, knowing what you were about to do. He dropped his cloak and reached for the knife. Your grip was strong, however, and you yanked it away from him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He whispered, looking at you with a worried stare. You smiled, pressing the knife against the palm of your hand.  
  
  


“I trust you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm Rida. Thank you for reading Frost Bitten! This is my first time delving into the world of writing an X Reader. And who better to start with then our lovely Prince Lotor? 
> 
> I'd like to thank The_Cat_Whisperer for helping me out with this! You should check them out, as they have an amazing Lotor X Reader series called "Lotor's Gift"! It's very much worth the read, and as of this current time, is still being written! So go on and check them out.
> 
> Thank you again for reading!


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